Time for Reflection

Opposite my kitchen window is a car-parts store whose staff are very helpful.  As I waited for my kettle to boil this afternoon my attention was drawn to an elderly sports car parked outside the door.  As I watched, a member of staff emerged from the car and went into the shop.  The driver looked down despondently into the car and stroked his chin thoughtfully.  I didn't have to be a mind-reader: "Hmm ... this is going to cost me!"  It's a thought that had been in my own mind earlier this week.

On Sunday morning, in a chat with the churchwarden over coffee after the morning service, I'd been asked to undertake a specific and relatively urgent task that posed an exciting challenge.  My week therefore began in high spirits.  I came home from the usual men's breakfast on Monday and worked steadily at this project until mid-evening.  It was convenient that there was no bell-ringing practice this week - and, indeed, there'll be no more ringing until Easter - because the clappers have been removed from some of the bells and sent away for some maintenance work.  Knowing that there was little left to do on my project other than a bit of tidying up, I sat down on Tuesday and switched on the computer. 

There was no response.  The screen was blank.  Only last week I had resumed a long-neglected self-examination exercise and found myself faced with the question, "What feelings might you experience if the most important things of your life were stripped away from you?"*  In response I imagined the scenario of my computer either being stolen or irreparably breaking down, and the realisation of just how much of my life is wrapped up in that silver box ... how seriously life would be impeded if it were inaccessible ... even if, thanks to modern restoration technology, not permanently lost.  Now that nightmare was becoming reality.

Fortunately, the Garden City boasts a very helpful computer business, and only a day later I was presented with a 'reset' computer, with my rescue data, Windows 10 and not a lot else.  Most of Wednesday was spent re-installing all my programs and organising a more readily accessible data back-up system.  Meanwhile the experience made me question what is actually important to me.  I may not have formulated any specific answers, but the thought process itself is far from wasted energy.

Yesterday, I was volunteering at the drop-in for homeless and disadvantaged people in our area, which always reminds me how grateful I have been to such resources during a particularly difficult time in my life.  A particular couple from our church, a young helper and her three-year-old daughter, hadn't been lately but were there yesterday and it was lovely to see the little girl's delight at some toys that one of those being helped had brought for her.  In a way it was kindness rewarded, but to me it was a reminder of what human relationships are really all about: an unexpected answer to the questions I've been asking myself this week.

Yesterday evening I went along to a dinner organised by the men's group at the church.  Some of those present are London commuters and so the start was quite late to allow them to get home from work.  It was great to be part of a lively - and sometimes noisy - bunch, exchanging experiences, preferences, problems and achievements over a meal.

Now, in keeping with the theme of the week, 'what's important?', I can decide not to restore a number of minor programs that have been cluttering up my computer unused for some while, and introduce a few changes that are long overdue, looking forward to a more streamlined future.  It all sounds wonderful policy-talk; watch this space as reality unfolds!

*- "Forgetful Heart", by Lucy Mills (Darton, Longman & Todd, 2014)